


Ambiguous

by Snowy_Owl00



Series: An Agreement of Sorts [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Domestic Discipline, Flirting, Greg Lestrade is a Good Friend, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Owl00/pseuds/Snowy_Owl00
Summary: Sherlock and John’s relationship has been somewhat ambiguous all these months. All of a sudden, they find they need to define it.





	1. Chapter 1

The best part of solving cases was the ending. 

When everyone could sigh in relief because they’ve successfully caught the criminal and he could now be incarcerated. If it was a really good one, a painfully difficult case that even took Sherlock some time to solve, everyone would go out for drinks to celebrate. 

At least, that’s how John felt about the cases. Sherlock might be pleased when he solves a case, but the good mood soon turns foul because now there’s no more game to play. Where’s the fun in a LEGO set once you’ve completed it? 

Still, Sherlock felt pleased with how much John smiled after the big rush of finishing a case. He liked to make John smile, especially when he was proud. 

And so, when John came over to the bar stool, colorful drinks in hand and a grin on his face, Sherlock smiled a little too. 

That smile disappeared immediately when he took a sip of the drink. “What the hell is this?” He grumbled, brusquely pointing at the offending blue drink. 

John chuckled, taking a sip from his own matching drink. He did grimace a bit, but nowhere near as exaggerated as Sherlock. “Not entirely certain, but was one of the few that didn’t have any alcohol.” 

“It’s terribly sweet and besides, what’s the point if it has no alcohol?” Sherlock placed the drink on the countertop, not touching it again for the rest of the night. 

“Did you forget? We’re visiting your parents tomorrow morning and it wouldn’t exactly be classy if you show up with a hangover.” John leaned over on the counter, stretching his legs and cracking his neck.

This was probably the longest case they’d ever had. Months and months spent on capturing this human trafficking leader. Hundreds of dead ends and red herrings. 

Sherlock groaned, head in hands. Yes, he loved his parents dearly. He just preferred to love them from afar. They could be quite the helicopter parents. 

“How’re you liking your drink?” Both Sherlock and John turned to face the other side of the countertop where a woman stood, big smile flashing at John. It was not a friendly smile. More like a “my bedroom’s upstairs do you wanna come look at it” smile. 

“Oh, well,” John paused for a moment before returning the more than friendly smile. “Pretty good, actually.” 

Sherlock stayed silent, watching the interaction. John was a horrible liar, but this lie slid by without hesitation. Something in John’s eyes and way he smiled at the bartender was deeply unsettling. Made his stomach hurt a little. His fingers felt tingly. 

“What are you guys celebrating?” The woman asked, a finger twisting her kinky blonde hair. Her hazel eyes flickered towards the rest of the group, where the most well mannered, intelligent detectives of Scotland Yard were drinking like there was no tomorrow. Screeching laughter and shouts encircled them. Detective know how to party. 

“Well, I’m fairly certain we’re not supposed to give away any details, but we’ve just finished a pretty massive case. Human trafficking.” The way John pushed back his hair when he spoke was the biggest tell of his shameless flirting. 

Her eyes lit up. She really did have such pretty eyes, that greenish tint that contrasted so well against her tanned skin. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing. Makes you a hero!” She gushed, leaning closer against her side of ten counter. Her oval face was nearly touching John’s “What’s your name, so I can remember when I’m listening to the news?” 

“It was a minor role, but I’m John. John Watson.” His false modesty was straight up unbelievable. 

She grinned widely. “I’m Steph. Steph Rivera.” Now her hand was on top of John’s, her thumb stroking his. 

“I think I owe you a drink, for being such a hero and all. Come and visit next Saturday, I’m off work and you can tell me all about this case of yours.” Her voice was silky smooth despite the chaotic music surrounding them. 

John nodded a few times before actually opening his mouth to speak. “Okay, yeah. 7 okay?” 

This was when Sherlock stood up and left. He felt stranger than he’d ever felt before. His stomach was turning and his heart was beating way too fast. He was certain that a glance in the mirror would tell him his cheeks were flushed like a strawberry. 

———

Lestrade didn’t drink as much as everyone else did. He had custody of his sons for the weekend and he didn’t exactly want to meet his ex wife tomorrow morning with a hangover. 

And so, he was chosen to go count heads for the next round of drinks. What was it, the 5th or 6th round? 

He had asked everyone but Sherlock and John. 

When he approached John, he found that he was enraptured in a conversation with the lovely bartender. 

He did find it a bit odd. He had always presumed Sherlock and John to be a couple, even with their .... agreement. 

Lestrade decided to leave John alone and go find Sherlock. He scanned the room and out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock walking towards the men’s room briskly. With a shrug, he followed him in. 

As soon as he opened the door, he was quickly met with a cloud of smoke. He coughed into his elbow, waving away the smoke. 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock!. You’re not allowed to smoke inside.” Lestrade reprimanded, crossing his arms. “Besides, I thought you quit.” 

Sherlock smoked quickly, one cigarette after the other. The pack in his hand was already half way finished. He was silent, looking at the tile floor. 

Lestrade was ready to forget Sherlock and return to the waiting group, but then he noticed Sherlock’s eyes. 

His eyes were reddened beneath the sheet of unfurling smoke. 

“Sherlock, is everything okay?” This time his voice was softer, and he took a step closer, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. 

Sherlock shrug the hand off. “Yes I’m fine. Go back to your party.” His voice was curt and bitter. 

“Sherlock, is it that lady?” Lestrade probed, carefully watching Sherlock’s expression. 

Sherlock took in a sharp breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

His face denied everything, but Lestrade nodded anyway. He would respect Sherlock’s privacy for the moment. 

“Alright then. You know you can talk to me if there’s any problems.” Lestrade headed towards the door of the bathroom. 

Before he left, Lestrade turned back to face Sherlock once more. 

“I know you really shouldn’t be smoking, but it’s okay. I won’t tell John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another addition to my favorite series. I know it’s been ages since I’ve written an update, but I’ve been pretty busy lately. This idea came to me this morning (yesterday I suppose) and I simply had to write it out. Thanks so much for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

Lestrade wasn’t planning to go back and talk to John. He wanted to go back to the rioting party and try to have a good time. 

Something really bothered him about Sherlock’s manner. He was smoking again and his eyes had looked so deeply troubled. John was currently being completely and utterly blind. 

So instead, Lestrade turned back around and found John, who was still at the bar. The bartender now looked like she might be seconds from kissing John. Her eyes were half closed and her slender hand brushed John’s cheek. 

Lestrade cleared his throat in the least natural way possible. John whipped his head around at the sound, cheeks flushed. 

He couldn’t explain why, but he felt guilty. Caught red handed and all. 

Despite what everyone thought, he wasn’t actually   
in a relationship with Sherlock. At least, not the conventional kind everyone thought it was. 

“John, can I talk to you?” Lestrade’s eyes momentarily flickered back to Steph. “In private?”

John’s mouth was strangely dry when he replied, “Yeah, sure.” 

Why, oh why, did he feel like he was being called to detention? 

Lestrade pulled John aside till they were in a neutral, empty area of the bar. 

“Listen, Sherlock’s in the men’s room, and he’s really upset.” Lestrade began, motioning towards the door of the men’s room. 

“How upset?” John asked, brows furrowed. 

Lestrade paused. He had told Sherlock he wouldn’t tell John about the smoking. “Very upset. You need to go talk to him right now.” 

Just as he said that, Sherlock darted out the men’s room. He strode with long, weighty steps. Not quite stomping but close. 

“Look, there he goes!” Lestrade pointed at the detective who had stubbornness in his step. 

John nodded and squirmed past the crowds of people to Sherlock, who was walking towards the exit door. 

“Sherlock, wait!” He shouted, catching up to Sherlock amidst the sea of people. Damn, the music was way too loud. 

Sherlock stopped, hand on the door handle, turning his head briefly. “I want to go home, I’ll take the bus.” His voice was sharp and barely succeeded in masking his hurt. 

John grabbed Sherlock’s shoulder and leaned closer, taking a deep breath. “Have you been smoking? After all this time?” The last sentence was tinged in disappointment. 

Sherlock shoved John’s hand away with a gruffness John hadn't seen before and pushed open the door, allowing the wintry air inside. 

John sighed dejectedly, following Sherlock outside. “Sherlock!” 

“Ah, look, there’s the bus.” Sherlock said in a monotone voice that showed absolutely no reaction to John’s words, pointing at the bus stop across the street. 

Without looking either way, Sherlock stepped onto the road. 

“Sherlock, stop!” John lunged forward, grabbing the back of Sherlock’s coat. 

A van going perhaps 100 kilometers a mile zoomed right past them, directly over where Sherlock was standing a few seconds prior. 

The two let out a big breath that seemed to have been trapped inside of them. 

Instead of calming down, John became more and more stressed with every second. His eyes were wide and his heart was drumming in his chest. 

Sherlock, well, he was just breathing hard. Every inhale and exhale did nothing to calm the cluttered mess that his mind was at the moment. 

John’s grip on Sherlock’s coat tightened and with a firm resolve, John nearly dragged Sherlock back into the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, it seems I took longer than I expected in posting the 2nd chapter. As expected, life got crazy, especially now that the holidays are in full force. 
> 
> I’ll try to have the next chapter up before Christmas :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

John didn’t let up on the tight grip he had on the back of Sherlock’s coat. His brow was heavy and his steps were carefully measured as he marched to the men’s room. He shoved people by without much care. 

Sherlock, half dazed and hardly registering what was happening, stumbled behind John. It was entirely possible that one could have too many emotions clashing all at the same time. 

John pushed the door of the men’s room so hard it swung on its hinges, revealing one solitary man washing his hands. The man’s eyes were wide at the boisterous entrance, the water continuing to run as he met John’s eyes. 

John released his hold on Sherlock’s coat as he crossed his arms, unabashedly glaring down the awkward man. 

With a slight shudder at John’s frightening gaze, the man dried his hands on his jeans and quickly walked out the bathroom. 

Now it was empty, and John didn’t have to hold in the big yell that had been fighting to escape ever since Sherlock stepped into the busy street. 

“What. The. Hell. Was that!” John tried to contain himself, but for fuck’s sake, Sherlock had been inches from being run over. 

John rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, sighing roughly. “You could have been killed! So close, so fucking close.” John groaned, pacing around the small room. “I mean, what the hell were you thinking? Why didn’t you stop to look both ways, like they teach in bleeding primary school?” 

John looked back at Sherlock, who was just staring down at the tile. His whole expression read as monotone and unresponsive. 

“Are you even listening? Look at me, Sherlock!” John stepped closer, closing the gap between them. 

Sherlock said nothing, did nothing. 

Didn’t even look up to meet John’s frustrated eyes. 

John swore under his breath and firmly grabbed Sherlock’s bicep, turning his body towards him and swatted his arse twice. 

Said nothing, did nothing. 

“Sherlock!” John ground out in an authoritative voice, landing a few more searing smacks. 

Nothing, nothing. 

Amidst the leftover adrenaline and tired headache, John paused, taking a step back. This was painfully familiar territory, harkening back to a day where John was much too angry and Sherlock much too unresponsive. 

He was never going to repeat that day. There was no way in hell Sherlock was getting a spanking today. 

John reached forward and lifted Sherlock’s chin, finally seeing his eyes. 

Those eyes were not dwelling on this earth. They were somewhere else, trapped deep amidst the chaos of his Mind Palace. Lost in his own head, Sherlock wasn’t even present for John’s lecture.

John sighed again. “We’re going home.”

——————-

John could feel it when Sherlock landed back on earth. They were stepping out the cab and onto Baker Street when Sherlock suddenly stiffened and inhaled deeply, turning to gauge his surroundings. 

His eyes landed on John. His brows furrowed and his plump lips pursed. “Not good?” 

John shook his head, a somber expression painting his face. “No, not good at all.”

Once in the living room, John settled into his chair, knowing he was probably going to be there for a while. He cracked his neck and popped his knuckles. 

Sherlock watched him carefully, wondering why was it that John wasn’t grabbing a kitchen chair or ordering him upstairs. 

“Sherlock, we really need to talk.” John prefaced, motioning for Sherlock to sit in his own chair. 

Sherlock just barely hid the surprise on his face. “Oh, no, let’s spare the lecture and get this over with.” 

Something was so so wrong in Sherlock’s voice. And this time John caught it. 

“Sherlock, it can’t be that easy this time.” He once again gestures to the chair. “Now sit.” 

Sherlock edged closer to the staircase that led to his room. “No, come on. I already understand what I’ve done and you need to rectify it. I know what I did and-“

“Sherlock.” John put his hand up, gesturing to slow down. 

Sherlock was only becoming more manic, his voice becoming louder. 

“John, remember. I’ve been smoking, look,” Sherlock dug his hand in his pocket, retrieving the empty pack of cigarettes, waving it in front of him. “Can’t you see, I even smell like cigarette-“

“Sherlock, put the bloody cigarette pack down and sit in the bloody chair.” John wasn’t exactly shouting, but his voice was firm as stone. 

Sherlock quieted instantly. The “Captain Watson” voice would always have an effect on him. He quickly shuffled over to his chair. 

“Okay, how about we start with why you are so obviously pushing me to spank you?” John said, thinly veiling a command in the form of a question. 

“I just wanted to get it over with.” Sherlock said in a snippy tone. 

“Sherlock, don’t lie to me.” John retorted, crossing his arms. Sherlock just gave him a blank stare. He then uncrossed his arms and tried a softer approach. 

“You know you can tell me anything, anything at all. I’ve known you nearly two years, and we’ve agreed to avoid lying.”

Sherlock looked up to the ceiling as if it could give him a better lie. “It’s going to sound so much worse when I say it out loud.” He mumbled softly. 

“Go ahead.” John encouraged, leaning further into his chair. He needed to be comfortable for this. He probably should have made tea. 

“At first, you seemed so angry, angrier than I’ve seen in a long time, loud and yelling. Now you’re still angry, but just quieter. I thought that you punishing me could make you calm down and not want to—“ Sherlock paused, looking up to John’s eyes, debating whether or not he should voice what he really thought. 

“What did you think I was going to do?” John pressed, wondering what it could be that Sherlock was thinking. 

“We don’t usually stop to talk before. It was concerning, and I thought that you were going to say that this was too much for you. That you were ending it, ending this.” The tops of Sherlock’s cheekbones and the tips of his ears flushed pink and he looked down to the floorboards. 

“But, Sherlock, we’ve definitely gone through worse, much worse in fact.” John puzzler aloud, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. 

“Yes, but it could be different. You met a pretty lady tonight and now you are thinking this is too much trouble for you and you’d rather marry, have kids, and do all those things that normal people like to do. Get on with rest of your life.” 

Sherlock’s voice began to crack at the last sentence, displaying that human emotion that he so badly didn’t want. 

John took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair, placing his hand on the top of Sherlock’s. 

“Sherlock, you are the rest of my life.” 

Sherlock’s eyes widened to dinner plates. He took in a sharp breath. Damn human bloody fucking emotion. 

“I don’t know if I’ve said it enough or even at all, but I do love you Sherlock. I wouldn’t be doing all of this if I didn’t.” John was certainly never good at expressing his feelings, but this one moment, he hit the nail on the head. 

Sherlock should have known that John loved him. It was sort of an unspoken thing that didn’t really need to be said. But still, John saying it made him feel very odd. All those years of being a weirdo, a freak, and an outcast, but this person, this one person, loved him. 

All this was going through his head and Sherlock had still not said a word back to John. He was lost in his head again. 

“Alright, come here.” John stood from his chair, grabbing Sherlock and enveloping him in a tight embrace. 

They had never engaged in much physical affection that wasn’t involved with after care. So it was a bit different, but Sherlock soon returned the hug. 

“Listen, about Steph. I’ll cancel with her. What we’ve been doing these past couple years has always been in some sort of flux. Not really certain what we were doing. But now I think I know.” John pried Sherlock from the hug, cradling his face with both his hands. “This isn’t a buffer relationship before a “real” one. This is endgame.” 

Sherlock dug his face into John’s jumper, and although he would deny it, it was to hide the tears that were welling up in his eyes. 

He has cried over John’s lap countless times, but this was different. 

John smiled softly, kissing the curly crown of Sherlock’s head. He then brushed away the wild raven locks and kissed his forehead. Turning his head, he kissing those famous sharp cheekbones. 

John was never afraid of physical affection during their aftercare sessions. Sherlock would sit in his lap and John would land kisses on his head, his forehead, his cheeks. But never on his lips. 

“C’m here.” John mumbled, lifting Sherlock’s face towards him and softly kissing his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I’m not so sure what I’ve just written. 😅 While I was writing this, I kept going back and forth with how I was going to portray this. I suppose this felt right, and I’m kind of tempted to end the series like this. I feel it sort of wraps things up. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, I’m dying to hear some feedback for this one!

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, another addition to my favorite series. I know it’s been ages since I’ve written an update, but I’ve been pretty busy lately. This idea came to me this morning (yesterday I suppose) and I simply had to write it out. Thanks so much for reading :)


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